Home for a Ghost

by Shruti   May 18, 2020


Evenings like these leave me cold.

The smell of burnt wood and almost summer sits on my nose like
the blanket I tighten around my body every time they mistake me for a ghost.
It empties my lungs of oxygen and begs me for a home inside;
and I take off my cotton gloves, dig my fingers inside my ribs,
pull out a charred flower and say, “here you can have my barren heart.”
Maybe this is the way I will live again.

I was a human years ago.
I planted flowers on my body and danced with fireflies every
rainless spring night;
and breathing in the scent of changing seasons was like
keeping my garden pretty.
It was easy.
And when summer arrived I grew tuberoses on my bones
in hopes of building friendships with fragrance alone.
I did not ask for the world at my feet or for the angels to never sing again;
I wanted to remain a human and they stood in front of me,
looked right through my bones and turned me into a ghost.

That April night, for the first time
the almost summer air refused to let me breathe.
I bought a dozen scented candles and lit them all at once
I planted a hundred gardenias and grew them overnight;

now I sit on the porch of a burnt down house
with a garden that takes away everyone’s breath
(except my own)

-

©sharodi h.
March - 18th May, 2020

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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by Walter

    What a read! I really enjoyed this and glad to see it's been nominated.

    • 3 years ago

      by Shruti

      Thanks a lot Walter!

  • 3 years ago

    by Star

    The emotions here are so relatable yet really sad.
    I really hope this makes it to the front page!!

    • 3 years ago

      by Shruti

      Thank you Star! ^-^

  • 3 years ago

    by prasanna

    "Evenings like these leave me cold."

    An intriguing open-ended introduction to the poem that draws the reader's attention.

    "The smell of burnt wood and almost summer sits on my nose like
    the blanket I tighten around my body every time they mistake me for a ghost.
    It empties my lungs of oxygen and begs me for a home inside;
    and I take off my cotton gloves, dig my fingers inside my ribs,
    pull out a charred flower and say, “here you can have my barren heart.”
    Maybe this is the way I will live again."

    Your use of imagery in this stanza is extraordinary; I love the idea of a scent sitting on the nose, being mistaken for a ghost because you're wrapping blankets around that tightly. My favourite verses from this stanza has got to be

    ...dig my fingers inside my ribs,
    pull out a charred flower and say, “here you can have my barren heart.”

    It's just so rich, emotional, and makes a bit jealous that I didn't think or write of pulling a charred flower out of ribs. You set the pace and tone of the poem to be a sort of lamenting nostalgia.

    "I was a human years ago."

    Okay, I really love this verse, the play between ghost/human is really nice and builds on that lamenting tone of the poem. It's a perfect way to open up this stanza.

    "I planted flowers on my body and danced with fireflies every
    rainless spring night;
    and breathing in the scent of changing seasons was like
    keeping my garden pretty.
    It was easy."

    Again the imagery is really well done here, it ties in earlier with the concept of ribs housing flowers that you set up earlier, hinting at you just being a vessel for flowers - something beautiful, serene and peaceful. Which is why the concept of a charred flower really works, and is something that stood out for me.

    "and when summer arrived I grew tuberoses on my bones
    in hopes of building friendships with fragrance alone."

    Just a quick note but since all the other verses are capitalized, 'and' should be capitalized or you can join it to the previous verse using a semi-colon or a dash, but that said I really like this verse as well. Tuberose are revered for their aromas, being used in perfumes and being able to create friendships from that is interesting.

    "I did not ask for the world at my feet or for the angels to never sing again;
    I wanted to remain a human and they stood in front of me,
    looked right through my bones and turned me into a ghost."

    A powerful ending for this stanza.

    "That April night, for the first time
    the almost summer air refused to let me breathe.
    I bought a dozen scented candles and lit them all at once
    I planted a hundred gardenias and grew them overnight;

    now I sit on the porch of a burnt down house
    with a garden that takes away everyone’s breath
    (except my own)"

    A really fitting ending for this poem - earlier, you've been building yourself up as a vessel for flowers/ or likening yourself to it, something beautiful, serene but end it saying that you're no longer able to enjoy those aspects of your personality because the vessel/you, are burnt out. Passerby's don't notice the burnt house (you not being at 100%) instead focusing on the outward facing aspects (the flowers). A really powerful write, I've nominated this piece, and hope the site selects it!

    • 3 years ago

      by Shruti

      Oh thank you for pointing out that mistake, and the whole wonderful comment! Appreciate it~

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